


the yellow rose of rafflesia

by etoilette



Series: AU-gust 2020 [25]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Attends Shujin Academy, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26230507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilette/pseuds/etoilette
Summary: Succulents are ridiculously easy to take care of, and if Akira wants a little something that he can look at and poke, then he’ll be entertained for days.He’ll never have to look at Akira’s perfect face again.Except, he does.ORAkechi never expected to reunite with his kouhai Akira while working at Rafflesia, and he never expected Akira to cling onto him like a barnacle once more. It's not as if he can tell Akira to his face to go away though, but that's fine when you've got the language of flowers on your side.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: AU-gust 2020 [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860436
Comments: 12
Kudos: 185





	the yellow rose of rafflesia

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Goro attended Shujin in this fic but has since graduated but I kept the tag anyway because it's technically still Shujin!Goro. Also, this has background HaruMako in it.
> 
> Written for Day #27 of AU-gust: Flower Shop AU. With that, I think I'm done for this year. I have some ideas that I worked on for other days (Detectives AU, Monster Hunter AU, etc.) that I'll upload on my own time but for now, I think I just need a break from constant uploads haha. 
> 
> I will be writing for Kinktober though, and so I want to prep now to avoid an August burn-out. I will also take this time to finish up any pending WIPs from before August and from AU-gust as well.

It’s the Saturday before Mother’s Day and the Shibuya Underground Mall looks like a warzone. The storekeepers toss bombs of information into the crowd, desperately hoping that they can land a hit critical enough to attract a crowd into their store. Shoppers scramble over each other in their desperate attempts to get _something_ for their mothers. 

Goro is tired. He has had a day, even though his shift only officially started about an hour and a half ago. When he arrived, Hanasaki took one look at him and nearly burst into tears before practically shoving an apron into his hands and running away.

It took ten minutes before Goro himself wanted to just throw his apron onto the ground, scream, and leave Rafflesia forever. Demanding customers have been tossing money onto the counter all day, grabbing bouquets by the handful, tearing petals and leaves out until the ground is littered with them. He’s already been yelled at on two separate occasions about not having any more carnations, despite the fact that Mother’s Day is in approximately nine hours and even the smallest and most unpopular of flower shops are probably sold out of them.

He’s sweaty and sore. His ears still ring from when a baby screamed directly into his face while its sister frantically tore the store apart. There is no way that an extra 1000 yen bonus is worth this shit.

But the store is empty for once, even though the mall outside is still teeming with people, and he takes a second to just breathe. Until --

“Excu -- Akechi-senpai?”

Great. 

Goro blinks his eyes open and stares. A teen boy with messy black hair and unfashionably thick glasses stands in front of the store, blinking rapidly like a lost puppy. He recognizes the uniform as Shujin’s and unfortunately, he recognizes the face as well. 

“Welcome to Rafflesia,” he says with a picture-perfect smile as Kurusu Akira walks into the store, looking as if he’s never set foot inside a flower shop before in his life. Knowing the type of person Akira is, he wouldn’t be surprised, to be very honest.

When the two of them were together in the chess club, he seemed oblivious to a lot of things that a teenager their age should know about. He remembers when Akira regaled him with the tale of how he went to the arcade with Takamaki Ann, and how the two of them spent hours and hours just taking pictures in the purikura machine -- an activity he had never heard about prior to his second year in Shujin High Schoool.

He must not be presenting the best picture at the moment, with his sweaty tied-up hair and his rumpled light purple apron. Akira is blinking at him like an owl, and he must have been jostled around during his time in the Shibuya Underground Mall, because there is a flush on his cheeks as he looks around Rafflesia.

“May I help you?” Goro asks, because Akira still looks confused.

Akira frowns. “Akechi-senpai, don’t you remember me? It’s me, Kurusu Akira.”

“Of course I remember you, Kurusu-kun. May I help you with something?”

He keeps his voice light and polite, like he always does at work no matter the type of customer he’s dealing with, and Akira fiddles with his hair nervously. “Um. I’m here for a Mother’s Day bouquet.”

 _You and everyone else,_ Goro thinks viciously, but he bites that down and gestures around at the empty store. “I apologize but as you can see, there is a bit of a shortage today due to it being the day before Mother’s Day.”

Akira blinks and there is a shade of genuine surprise on his face. It’s almost as if he really hadn’t noticed anything, as if he thought that a florist shop in one of the most active underground malls in Tokyo would remain untouched during one of its busiest days of the year. 

It’s hard for Goro to feel snide and petty towards Akira though, with how his face falls as he rubs the back of his neck. He looks completely contrite and he says, “Oh, right, I suppose I should have put two and two together. Sorry.”

Akira’s not an idiot and Goro, of all people, knows that. 

“There’s The Body Chop in the mall as well if you’re in need of a gift.”

“I already went there,” Akira says, looking, impossibly, even more downtrodden. “They were sold out of practically everything.”

That, Goro could believe. He looks at Akira, who looks so pathetic and so run down that it feels as if any word Goro could say would sound like he's bullying him. It feels almost like he's stealing candy from a baby that's already crying. He heaves a sigh and rubs a hand through his hair, wincing at how greasy it feels. 

“Let me try to make you something with what we have left.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Akira says hurriedly. “You don’t have to --”

“It’s my job.”

Despite his philanthropic request, Goro isn’t _happy_ about this, plucking flowers from here and there. He grabs the remainders from the leftover bouquets in the store, even pulling a few of the dried stuff that had been kept at the back of the store. He folds it into the pink plastic that Rafflesia usually uses for its bouquets until, in his personal opinion, it’s quite the beautiful collage of colours and aromas.

It’s probably smaller than what Akira envisioned when he originally came in, but then again, he would have left empty-handed had Akechi not done anything. He places it into Akira’s hands and feels a twinge of satisfied pleasure at the look of awe and adoration on Akira’s face. 

“Thank you, Akechi-senpai,” he says, hugging the bouquet and holding it to his chest, making sure he doesn’t crush the delicate flowers with his hands. ‘You’re a lifesaver.”

Goro smiles and holds out his hand, gesturing with his fingers. “It’s no problem. I was just doing my job. Please do not come back again. That’ll be 1200 yen, please.”

He isn’t very interested in seeing Akira ever again, especially now after he finally managed to stop thinking about him. When Akira places the money into the palm of his hand and his fingers brush against his palm, his heart can’t stop fluttering, as if a lance of electricity was shot directly into his chest. 

He jerks his hand back, uncaring of whether or not he crushed the bill in his fist, but Akira doesn’t look affected at all. 

“I’ll come by again another day,” Akira says. ‘I’d love to talk to you again, Akechi-senpai.”

For a second, Goro can only stare at him, not sure what sort of face he should be making. He doesn’t remember Akira being this forward to him during high school, but Akira definitely seems the type to scrap the formalities of senpai-kouhai outside of it. He still constantly refers to Goro as ‘Akechi-senpai’ but at this point, it must be habit, considering how often Akira trailed after him like a loyal guard dog during Goro’s last year at Shujin. 

“There’s nothing I can do to stop you, Kurusu-kun,” Goro says slowly. “Please come again soon.”

He’s not sure if Akira loitered around the underground mall before going home to avoid the rush or not. He’s not sure when he gets home, and whether or not his mom enjoys the bouquet he made for her. He isn’t sure if Akira will mention him to her, if Akira will think of him ever again. Considering the importance that Akira places on him, he doubts it. 

Goro turns back to the empty storefront of Rafflesia and texts Hanasaki, citing an utter lack of stock. He takes off his apron, grabs the few pathetic flowers that remain to toss them, and goes home.

Goro honestly never expected to see Akira again after graduation, nor did he expect to see Akira again after his visit to Rafflesia, but the day after, Akira drops by the underground shopping mall once more. Goro is in the middle of watering a several lilies with a spray bottle and he almost jumps out of his skin when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Hello, Akechi-senpai,” Akira says, raising a hand in greeting. “I’m here to buy something for myself.”

He’s not wearing the Shujin uniform, considering it’s a Sunday, and the pale t-shirt he’s wearing shows off his biceps. It looks much more toned than even the previous year -- not as if Goro looked often enough to notice these things -- and Goro wonders if Akira maybe left the chess club in his third year. He must have just come in from outside, because the t-shirt is drenched with sweat, and if Goro looks closely, he can make out the faintest outline of Akira’s ni--

Not as if he cares, of course, because Akira is just a customer now, not the overly attached kouhai. Goro scrunches his face up in disgust before he could smother it. 

“Didn’t you come here just yesterday?” he asks.

Akira nods. “Yeah, but that was for my mom. I kinda want a plant to liven up my room.”

“I have the perfect one for you,” Goro says, his customer service smile affixed firmly in place. If Akira isn’t going to get the hint and just trail after him again like he did during school, then he has the perfect idea to tell him exactly what he needs to hear.

He sets down the spray bottle and walks to the back of the store, where one lonely and unwanted succulent sits. It’s fat and green and ugly-looking, with pudgy and uneven leaves. It reminds Goro of Akira, hence why he had set it aside behind the counter where no one could see it. 

“Here you go,” he says, keeping the snideness out of his voice.

“Thank you,” Akira says immediately. “I’ll take it.”

This isn’t exactly what Goro had been expecting when he decided to give Akira the succulent but if it means the cursed thing could be out of the store and his field of vision, he’s happy. 

But it’s strange, how quickly Akira acquiesced to the succulent. 

Goro raises an eyebrow. “You’re not going to look around for anything else?”

Akira shakes his head and smiles so wide that Goro can see his dimples. “Why would I? It’s the plant you chose for me.”

And god almighty, but there isn’t a single hint of deception on that open expression. The plastic customer service pleasantness on his face slips away a little and he has to look away before Akira could see any of the ugliness underneath.

There’s a pre-made bouquet next to the cash register and while Akira is pulling his wallet out of his pocket, Goro tugs out a white geranium from it. He’s not sure if Akira will know the meaning of it immediately or not, but he’s always been the studious kind of guy. He’s sure he can figure it out.

“Here,” he says, sliding the change, succulent, and flower into Akira’s hands. “On the house.”

There’s a look of wonder in Akira’s eyes as he gazes at the geranium, so enchanted and taken with it that Goro has to look away. “For me?”

“For you.”

Akira gives the flower and Goro a ridiculously soft expression and he leaves. He doesn’t know what Akira plans to do with the succulent -- if he plans on putting it on his bedside table or if he plans on tossing it the second he gets home -- but it’s none of his business. Succulents are ridiculously easy to take care of, and if Akira wants a little something that he can look at and poke, then he’ll be entertained for days.

He’ll never have to look at Akira’s perfect face again.

Except, he does. Almost every shift for about a month, Akira would drop in and apparently, according to Hanasaki, he does that even on days that Goro didn’t work. If Hanasaki was the only one working in the store, he would drop by, say hi, and leave. Only when Goro is working does he stay for longer than a second.

Once, while Goro was moving a newly drawn chalkboard sign outside to advertise marimo, he caught sight of Akira, out of breath, sprinting through the crowd. As soon as they met eyes though, he coughed, fiddled with his hair, and strolled the rest of the way to Rafflesia as if he wasn’t sweating bullets and desperately trying to catch his breath.

Akira buys another succulent to “keep the one Akechi-senpai recommended to him company.” Goro gives him a sprig of lavender. Akira holds the plant to his nose, huffs in deep, and almost inhales the delicate purple blossoms. Goro watches Akira hack up a lung in the midde of Rafflesia and wonders what about Akira ever interested him in the first place.

However, when Akira looks up at him, red-faced and teary-eyed from almost choking to death, he is painfully reminded of at least one reason.

Akira drops by another day and buys a few packets of plant food “so I can make my succulent big and strong.” When Goro reaches across the counter to hand Akira his purchase, he feels Akira’s hand linger against his wrist, and he shakes it off. Instead of telling him that succulents absolutely do not require plant food, Goro gives him a burdock flower. It’s an oddly shaped plant, and it’s one of the rarer ones that Rafflesia offers, considering its relative unpopularity. 

He has to explain to Akira that burdock flowers aren’t necessarily good for cooking in the kitchen, but then again, Goro doesn’t know how to cook anything more complicated than instant noodles, so maybe he’s the one in the wrong. Akira listens to him with starry eyes, though, and Goro can’t help but wonder if Akira will ever realize that he no longer has any need to respect a senpai who's been out of high school for months now.

A few days after, Akira drops by, a sheepish look on his face as he explains that since succulents don’t actually need plant food, he would like a flower. Goro grabs a pot of coneflowers, which are easy enough to take care of that even a complete amateur like Akira couldn’t mess it up. As Akira is paying, he shoves into his face a flower called the marvel of Peru -- yet another relatively rare addition to Rafflesia’s stock -- and he watches Akira tilt the bright flower this way and that. 

At no point does Akira ever seem insulted or bothered at the flowers that Goro give him. The message absolutely does not seem to be penetrating his stupidly thick skull, considering that Goro’s told him to fuck off in various colours, scents, and ways over the past month or so.

He just hopes that if he doesn’t say anything or do anything too interesting, eventually Akira will decide that it’s not worth the effort to pursue a boring person like Goro again, and fade away into the distance with his fancy foreigner girlfriend.

On June 2nd, Goro stands in Rafflesia. Hanasaki gave him a small box of chocolate cake as an apology for making him work on his birthday, but it’s not as if Goro has anything particular he needs to do on this day. He prunes the roses boredly, wishing that he could afford airpods or wireless earbuds so he could listen to jazz while working instead of the shoppers’ excited screams.

“Akechi-senpai!” he hears off in the distance.

He looks up so fast that his hair gets in his eyes, and he shakes it away with an angry huff. It takes him a second before he can school his tired expression into his customer service one, but it seems from Akira’s sympathetic smile that he wasn’t able to cover it up in time.

“Kurusu-kun, what brings you here today?”

“I would like to commission a bouquet.”

Oh no. Goro’s heart starts to race, and he sets the pruning scissors down quickly, not wanting them to slip through his fingers because of the sudden perspiration on his skin. Akira doesn’t know, does he? Akira can’t. Akira might? 

He remembers when they were in the chess club together, when Makoto suggested that everyone exchange birthdays as a way of bonding, so that everyone could give each other birthday presents and have parties. As if chess club was the place to make friends rather than a battleground of the most elite and intelligent.

He had Akira’s birthday in his phone for that year -- not for this one, because he never set it to recurring -- but he knows that Akira is the type of person who would make sure that birthday notifications are an yearly thing. He’s probably the type of guy who would cold text friends after years of nothing to say “happy birthday.” 

But then again, maybe June 2nd also happens to be his mom’s birthday. Or his dad’s. Heck, maybe Akira just wants a bouquet for completely unrelated reasons and oh goodness, how long as Goro been standing there staring at him now?

“Alright,” he says as casually as he could. He pulls out a notepad and a pen from his apron, and flips to a blank page. “Depending on our current stock, you might not get your bouquet today. If you’re requesting specific flowers we don’t carry now or don’t usually carry, you might end up getting your bouquet within three business days. Is that alright with you?”

Akira nods firmly. “I’m sure all the flowers I want are available right now.”

“Okay. Go ahead and tell me what you want.”

Akira reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, reading off the list. “Red tulips.”

_Confession of love_

“Purple lilacs.”

_First love_

“Red roses.”

_Love_

Goro feels a tremble in his hand, his meticulous handwriting becoming shaky and ugly. He presses the nub of the pen harder against the notebook, not even caring that it was starting to pierce through the paper. The ink bleeds around it, and he needs to take a deep breath to steady himself.

“Daisies.”

_Faithfulness_

Akira does seem the faithful type -- the type of person who would fall in love with someone and then never let them go. He wonders who it is. He had been one of the few people who managed to make Makoto genuinely smile in the chess club, but if he remembers correctly, she and Okumura Haru became an item after they graduated from Shujin.

Then Takamaki Ann? She’s the only other girl in Akira’s general social group that he remembers seeing, and the two of them had always been close, with Akira even hand-feeding her lunch to her whenever she was too tired from gym class. 

He remembers all the times walking home from cram school, seeing Akira and Ann on their little dates. How in the immediate wake of Suzui Shiho transferring schools due to a nasty rumour flying around, the two of them had been almost inseparable, their heads bowed together over their lunches as they whispered to each other about who knows what.

It must be Takamaki. This must be for Takamaki. He’s not quite sure if June 2nd also happens to be Takamaki Ann’s birthday or what, but this must be something he plans to give to her as a confession gift.

“And red camellias. Those are the ones I want in my bouquet.”

_Being in love_

Goro looks down at the notes, trying to envision how the bouquet would look like past the vision of Takamaki and Akira’s wedding ceremony. “This is a lot of red,” he says, tapping at the paper with the tip of his pen and watching as the angry ink blots pollute the rest of the paper. “You’re sure this is the bouquet you want?”

_Please say no._

Akira nods his head so hard Goro is worried he’ll sprain his neck. “Positive.”

Goro frowns, running through the catalogue of flowers left in Rafflesia. Akira’s right in saying that the store probably does have all the flowers he requested - they’re ones that are in season and popular enough that any florist would have them ready on hand. 

He could lie, but it’s not as if Akira’s glasses are useless. From his position right at the entrance of the store, he could see every single flower he requested. He could mess it up on purpose, but Akira’s good enough with his hands that he could probably fix it right up no matter how much Goro destroys it. 

It’s time to suck it up and face the music.

“I can make the bouquet for you right now,” he says slowly. “I’ll be right back.”

He grabs the requested flowers, with a specific focus on snatching up as much daisies as possible. It’s hard to make it look balanced, especially with the bright pink of Rafflesia’s plastic covering for their bouquets clashing garishly with the large amount of red. He wonders if Takamaki likes the colour red and he spitefully hopes that she doesn't.

It’s not ugly, in Goro’s opinion. It’s not his best work, but given the constraints he had been given, he supposes it’s not his fault. In fact, it’s beautiful if he considers the fact a lesser florist might not have been able to create something as eye-catching. 

If he were Takamaki, and Akira showed up in front of him with a bouquet as passable as this one, there would be no question at all as to whether or not he would swoon into Akira’s arms.

Of course, since he isn’t Takamaki, there is no reality where he would swoon into Akira’s arms, no matter what. It is simply a fantasy based on the objective quality of the bouquet in his hands. 

He remembers Akira giving him a bag of homemade macarons and a new detective novel for his birthday that year. It had been one of the better birthday gifts in his life, especially considering that a lot of Goro’s past birthday presents had been garbage, such as phone numbers and odd-looking handmade trinkets.

Akira’s present hadn’t been bad, per se. The macarons had been delicious, and the detective novel legitimately so interesting that he read it about forty times in the past year alone. It makes sense that one of the best birthday presents he had ever received in his life would be given to him by the person who is now giving him one of the worst birthday presents.

He's not quite sure if anything can quite top the uncomfortable tightening in his chest that Akira's request is giving him.

When he gives the bouquet to Akira, there is a look of concern in his face. For a second, Goro wonders if perhaps the two inch journey between his hands and Akira's had been too precarious for the cargo, but when he looks down at the bouquet, there’s nothing wrong with it. 

“That’ll be 2000 yen, please,” Goro says. 

Akira digs around in his pocket and hands Goro 2000 yen exactly. Goro is about to reach over to the vase next to him to pull out yet another flower to tell Akira to go away with when his entire field of vision is filled with red.

“Happy birthday, Akechi-senpai,” he says, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. He shoves it closer into Goro’s face and Goro reflexively clutches the bouquet to his chest. Distantly, he pats himself on the back for not succumbing to his pettiest instinct and making the bouquet ugly on purpose.

“For me?” he asks, and even to his own ears, he sounds faint.

Akira rubs the back of his head, looking down on the ground rather than into Goro's eyes like he usually does. “Well, of course. It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

Goro feels his heart drop until it’s somewhere in the vicinity of his feet. A bouquet for his birthday. Nothing special. He’s not sure why Akira thought to use these particular flowers if it’s given in this context, but then again, he’s never sure of why Akira does much of anything. 

Even from the first time they met, Akira had been a complete mystery. Smart enough to keep up with Makoto and Goro in chess, and yet wholeheartedly bought into schoolyard superstitions of how if you press both buttons of a vending machine at the same time, you could get two cans instead of one. Charismatic enough that he seemed to have friends in every class and every grade, yet no one aside from Takamaki and Sakamoto seemed to know much of anything about Akira’s personal life.

He had dominated Goro’s every waking thought after school for a year, despite he being the one to dominate Akira on the battlefield when it came to chess. At the graduation ceremony, after he managed to escape from the literal mob of people trying to rip off every single button from his jacket, he ran home with a smile on his face, exuberant with the realization that he was finally going to be free from Kurusu Akira.

Until now, of course, because Goro’s life is a nonstop roller coaster of suffering.

He takes the bouquet back from Akira and holds it to his chest, uncaring of how much he crushes the delicate petals against himself. Akira doesn’t seem to care or notice the bouquet’s casual destruction, and there is a heavy flush on his face.

“Akechi-senpai, do you know much about hanakotoba?”

“Of course,” Goro replies, confused. “Even before I worked here, I’ve read books about them.”

Akira’s face, if possible, becomes even more red, so much so that Goro has half a mind to call a doctor before Akira collapses from too much blood in his skull. But before he could offer Akira a cellphone or a water bottle, Akira reaches out a plucks a red tulip from the bouquet. 

It’s slightly crushed, and with the stem bent and the head drooping, it’s pretty pathetic. Even though Goro had been the one to crush it, Akira’s face falls as if it was his fault, but he seems to give himself a shake and shoves the flower into Goro’s face.

“Akechi-senpai, will you go out with me?”

Goro takes the flower and stares at it. If Akira mentioned hanakotoba, then every single flower in the bouquet must have a meaning that Akira intended for him, and at that realization, he feels his own face become hot. He is painfully thankful that Hanasaki is not working, because he can’t imagine her walking in on two boys blushing at each other with a bouquet between them in her precious flower shop. 

But wait, and at this sudden realization, Goro feels the blood drain from his face. 

Keeping his voice as calm and steady as he can, Goro asks, “Did you find out about hanakotoba recently?”

Akira shakes his head. There is still an air of nervousness on his face, no doubt from Goro’s lack of a proper answer, but he says, “Just the other day.”

“How did you find out about it?”

“I read a book and googled some.”

Okay. This isn’t the end of the world if Akira is still handing this confessional bouquet to him, but he really just has to ask. He thinks of all the flowers he gave Akira the past month: a white geranium to disparage Akira’s affection; a lavender to show his distrust in Akira’s sincerity; a burdock flower to request that Akira not touch him again; a marvel of Peru to push him away.

His heart is beating like a drum in his chest, and his throat has to work to push words out past the sudden dryness as he asks, “Well, what did you think about the flowers that I gave you?”

Is Akira so invested in Goro that he would pursue him so doggedly even after being rejected so many times? Is Akira’s love for Goro so much that he would ignore every effort Goro made to keep his distance from him once more. Is Akira --

“The flowers you gave me?” Akira asks, an open smile on his face. “They’re really pretty. I have them all on my bedside table. Why? What about them?”

Ah.

“Did you perhaps look up any of their meanings?” Goro asks slowly.

Akira shakes his head. “I didn’t know a lot of their names and I got a little too preoccupied trying to find flowers I wanted to give you. Why do you ask?”

Goro can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him, and he looks away when he sees a pleased glow on Akira’s face. 

“No reason,” he says between giggles, hiding his mouth with his hand so that he didn’t look like a rabid hyena.

At this point, what else is there to do but laugh, really? And poor patient Akira is still waiting for his answer.

He plucks a columbine flower from a bouquet next to him, its bright and vibrant colour the perfect match to the absolutely sunny way Akira is still beaming at him, as if Goro saying yes is a foregone conclusion in his head.

If Goro was just a little meaner, he might say ‘no’ just to see what Akira would do, but Goro simply tucks the columbine into Akira’s hand so that it stands tall next to the pathetic tulip.

“This is a columbine,” he says, looking Akira straight in the eye. “The hanakotoba for it is ‘yes.’”

**Author's Note:**

> The hanakotoba for columbine is 'foolish.'
> 
> For hanakotoba, I used various Japanese websites for the information. Here is the full list:
> 
> White geranium - I don't believe in your life  
> Lavender - distrust  
> Burdock - don't touch me  
> Marvel of Peru - I don't trust your love, timidity  
> Red tulip - confession of love  
> Purple lilac - first love  
> Red rose - love  
> Daisy - faithfulness  
> Red camellia - being in love
> 
> For the part where Akira gave him macarons for his birthday, it's said that on White Day, when guys give return gifts to girls who gave them stuff on Valentine's Day, the type of gift has a hidden message as well. Macaron means 'a special person.'


End file.
